The Tyrant
by y9024131
Summary: He thinks we're as compliant as pigs; he thinks we'll never fight back; he thinks he can rule us forever. But I'll soon let him know who is the boss here. . .
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's note**__: Hello, everyone. This is my first Minecraft story and also my first fanfiction. It's about a Testificate who wants to get rid of the tyrannical player. I've completed a few chapters but I'm not sure about the later plot developments of this story. So, you're welcome to provide any ideas or give comments. Thank you!_

**Chapter 1**

It had always been my dream to become a magician of words. Such magician exists in every civilization, witnesses its historic events, and then commands his languages to move his people to tears. So, one thing of great interest to such magician is to inform the generations to come of the glories as well as ordeals of their ancestors. However, most of my people have chosen to become either hard-working blacksmiths or peace-loving farmers. You probably have seen a librarian strolling around in our village before and he was wearing a white robe that gives him an aura of intelligence. But I have to tell you. He knows nothing but food, and all the books he has are food recipes. Why no one in my village, the once-peaceful village of Testificates, has ever thought about becoming a poet?

In addition to personal passion for poetry, there was one more important reason behind my yearning to write something for our descendents: We had been ruled by _a tyrant_. We lived in disgrace, believing that those who came after us would live on without dignity. Like a few wise elders in the village, I was clear about our situation. Yet, we were much afraid that our suffering and glories would be lost to the memory of our descendents. Try to imagine this: someday the tyrant could put saddles on our children, who were all as defenseless and compliant as pigs!

I think I eventually lived out my dream on the day when I was about to attend the _Great Conference_ for the first time. The Great Conference was a secret meeting held annually to find out good ways to dispose of the tyrant by the Four Sages in our village. Nevertheless, we had only three Sages at that time, the missing being my dear father. My father, my only family, suddenly left me last year. After his death (which is something I don't want to mention anymore), all my father's duties fell upon me. So, I needed to attend the conference on behalf of my deceased father. And since it would me my debut, it occurred to me that I could impress the three respected elders with something other than my proposal: a poem, or at least something that rhymes. Then, on the pleasant morning of that crucial day, in my small wooden room, I picked up a book and a quill and began to write:

_Roses are red,_

_ Violets are blue—_

"Wait a minute, what are 'violets'?" I thought to myself, erasing the line and re-wrote:

_Roses are red,_

_ Lapis are blue._

_ The tyrant will be dead!_

_ Because he ate my—_

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH, FREEEEEEE PATATO!" An unexpected shrill cry came straight into my room, pierced through my eardrums, and penetrated my brain. Scared out of my wits, I dropped the quill and accidentally squeezed an ink sac with my elbow. All of a sudden, the ink splashed onto my handsome face and the book. My book was stained with ink blots; my magnum opus was ruined!

I dashed toward the window frame, and through the glass pane I looked outside. In my father's old farm there was a cranky man, in a pair of ugly pink leather pants and with a raw fish in his hand. He was stealing the potatoes, chopping off the wood blocks, trampling on the farmland, and galloping around like an idiot. I could recognize him: He was _the player_. However, the title "player" failed to describe how menacing and evil he was. Now—I have to tell you—He was_ the tyrant_! Yes, the tyrant I've described to you, the tyrant who came and turned this serene village into a living hell!

"That goddamned player—" I said in a low voice, glaring at him. "Must die!"

I watched him destroying the farm until he left; this was all I could do. It was not because I lacked courage, but because clearly understood that I should refrain from making a fuss before the Great Conference began.

Letting out a deep sigh, I turned and looked at the book stained with patches of ink. I lost the poem. I had lost TOO MUCH due to that player! The only comfort was that I still had my proposal. I opened my chest, taking out two books. One was my written proposal; the other was an old and filthy pamphlet, which was disinterred from my father's bookshelf several weeks before. I was about to present them and share my idea with the Sages in the upcoming meeting.

"They will like it," I said, with a confident smile.

Right at that moment, there was somebody knocking at the door.

"Here they came," I thought, leaving my room to answer the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I opened the door. Standing in front of me was an elder wearing a plain brown robe that was no different from that of our farmers. His face was covered with wrinkles; his nose was elongated and unattractive. But eyes were glowing with familiar gentleness. .

"Long time no see, Tommy. How's everything?" He greeted me with a smile. "Ah, your father would be glad to see come to the front and represent him in the conference, if he were here—"

"Yes—I think so," I said, smiling in return.

He mentioned my father and this made me confirm in my mind that the old man in front of me was the Sage who was revered as the leader of our village: Skwid the Leader. Yes, he was Skwid. But I would not call him in this way. We preferred to call him by his title "leader," probably because his named always reminded us of a kind of slimy creature with tentacles.

Then, I wondered if he had invited the other two Sages to attend the conference, so I asked:

"Where are the Blacksmith and the Priest?"

The old man turned his head left, raised his hand, and slowly waved it the air, as if he was signaling to somebody. At this moment, I saw two men pop up behind a house next to mine. They glanced at the surrounding buildings and come scurrying, though not a fast speed, to my door. They were the Blacksmith and the Priest, the two remaining Sages who I hadn't greeted.

"Hey, young man, you're Ander's son?" said the Blacksmith, who looked a few years younger than our leader but way more serious. He had been elected as one Sage for his unrivalled expertise in armor and weapon crafting. One flaw of this Sage was, however, his irritable temperament. For example, he would explode with anger whenever it started to rain. This was why some villagers liked to call him "creeper" in private.

"Yes! I am. I am his son." I replied cautiously.

"May Notch bless you all," said the Priest. If my memory hadn't gone hazy, this cleric was around 15 years younger than the other Sages. On that day he wore a prim-looking purple robe, holding the Holy Book in his hand.

"Under the witness of Notch," he continued. "The Great Conference will proceed smoothly." As he finished, he lowered his head and began to murmur in a mystic language, or— perhaps— prayer.

"OK, since everyone is here, we can get started right now" I said, ushering the Sages into my house. But hardly had I closed the door when I heard somebody burst out shouting somewhere in the distance.

"Wait a minute!" He yelled.

"Oh my Notch! Can it be that player again?" I thought, slamming the door shut.

"WAIT A MINUTE!" the voice drew nearer.

"My dear Sages! Please find a place and hide yourself!" I urged. Yet, when I turned and looked at them, the old leader was smiling at me.

"Calm down, Tommy. Can't you recognize this voice?" He said.

"Yes. Why you can't recognize _him_. What's wrong with you?" said the smith, with a bewildered expression on his face.

At these words, I opened the door again, and, much to my surprise, I saw a person who was totally unexpected: John.

"John! Why—why you are here?" I asked, puzzled.

John was a friend of mine and the niece of our leader. He was truly a nice friend, but his presence completely confused me because— honestly speaking—he knew nothing but food, food, and food! In fact, he was the librarian I just mentioned to you. He had collected tons of recipes; he knew how to make a cake; his favorite snack was cookie. . . I couldn't think of anything about him that was related to the upcoming discussion of the conference. Nevertheless, I daren't doubt the sagacity of the leader's decision to let him join us.

"I—I just drew the a—attention from the player—from our Sages and—and escorted them," he replied, panting.

"Yes, Johnny did it for us," said the old leader.

"Really?" I exclaimed.

"Yep, " he said. "By—by the way, bro—

"What?"

"Can I—join you?"

I glanced back over my shoulder, only to find the leader nodding his head approvingly with a smile. I didn't how John helped the Sages, nor was I interested in what he was here for. But since I couldn't wait to begin the conference and our greatest Sage agreed, I gave him permission.

"Well, please come in."

"Yeah! Thanks!"

Closing the door, I pointed at nine wooden blocks place in a 3x3 square at the center of my living room.

"That's our conference table," I said to the Sages.

One block away from each side of the table were four wooden staircases, which were improvised chairs.

"Please have a seat."

After they ensconced themselves around the table, I took the remaining seat. I found myself sit face to face with the leader, with the murmuring priest at my left hand side and the sulking blacksmith at my right hand side. When I was about to stand up to make an opening speech, I noticed that John was standing beside me.

It occurred to me that I prepared seats for only four attenders.

"Sorry, bro, I didn't expect you to come."

"Well, that's OK," he said. "But bro—"

"What?"

"Do you have some chocolate cookies? I heard that your father used to prepare cookies for the other Sages and so—"

"Well, of course, I have some. And if you want, you can find them in my kitchen."

"Wow! Thank you!" he said, entering the kitchen. In fact, I was afraid that he would devour all my food, but then my mind was occupied by only one thing: telling to the Sages about my proposal. So, after taking a deep breath, I stood up and said:

"My dear Sages, welcome to the Great Conference. I am very glad to see you here and discuss the matters which are of great concern to all wise villagers. And I—"

"Tommy!" interrupted the blacksmith. I was a little taken aback by his sudden interruption.

"Ye—yes?"

"How long is your opening speech?" inquired the blacksmith.

"About thir—thirty minutes."

"Then can you skip it and let the leader announce the decision he just made?"

"Well, OK—" I accepted. Really, I had spent a month preparing it. Yet, I didn't have the courage to take issue with this hot-tempered Sage.

"So, I announce it first?" said the leader.

"Yes, it's much more important. Besides, I'm running out of my time," said the smith.

"Well, OK—Tommy, do you know where I had been over the past few months?"

"Yes, you visited villages that haven't been ruled by the tyrant and consulted the wise people there," I replied. But at this moment, I noticed that his usual smile had disappeared from his face.

"Yes, right. After that, I discussed with our smith and our priest, and we eventually came to one decision—"

"Really? What's that?" Interested, I was all ears.

"We think we should cancel the conference for good."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

"What! You mean no cookie party anymore?" exclaimed John.

"Shut up! You imbecile! This is called the Great Conference!" The blacksmith replied to his interruption angrily, then letting out a sigh. "But whatever you call it—this is the last meeting of the Sages."

I was dumfounded, speechless. These wise elders, who were the respected warriors against tyranny and the admired saviors of our race, gave up. I felt my heart sank down to the Bedrock layer and then fell into the pitch-dark Void, in which there was only despair. I couldn't believe it! Yes, I couldn't believe it, nor could accept it! Maybe there would be still a glimmer of hope if didn't remain silent toward the end of the conference. I tried my best to convince myself of this, even though I was paralyzed with shock.

"Why—why can—cancelled it, my—my dear Sages?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Tommy, we're truly sorry. We know this tradition means a lot to you and you father. But really, we're at the end of our wits," said the leader. "Over the past few months, I'd called upon the _wise_ people of all other villages we know so far. But I was surprised to find none of them knew what _the player_ is, not to mention seeing one."

"Yes, they were never ruled by him, never get harmed by him. They didn't even believe what the leader had told to them about the player. So the journey was completely a waste of time," said the blacksmith.

"But twenty years has passed, and we can't think of any ways to deal with the player," said the leader, with his head lowered. "Now they still call me 'sage' or 'leader.' I'm really, really ashamed."

The leader's lowered head prevented me from seeing his face. The blacksmith was looking away from me at the door, as if he was waiting for the leader to dismiss the meeting. The priest, hadn't said a word, was still murmuring in prayer with his eyes closed. The atmosphere here smothered everyone; no one seemed eager to talk anymore.

"Wow, that's really sad," said John, who had stood beside me and was making crisp sounds of biting a crunchy cookie. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say those stupid things. But the cookies are really—hmmm—delicious!"

I nudged him in the waist and whispered, "Can you be quiet and stop talking about cookies?"

"Uhhl, OK. But, bro, I didn't mean to interrupt. I think you know how to deal with this embarrassing situation—well, it seems that you've forgotten something—"

"What?"

"Proposal—"

Suddenly it occurred that I still had my proposal, in which I had poured so much time and effort. It slipped out of my mind when I was overwhelmed by despair; nevertheless, it all came back to me. Yes, these sad-looking elders would probably love my idea.

"Thank you for your reminder," I said to John, standing up and speaking to the elders. "Hey, my dear Sages. I'm sorry I almost forgot I have an idea that I desire to share with you all."

The Sages, who were previously immersed in their own thoughts, raised their heads and looked at him.

"Really? What's that?" asked the leader.

"Well," I said, cleaning my throat. "Several weeks ago, I discovered an old pamphlet in my father's bookshelf. It was no longer than four pages, but as a man who wanted to become a poet and who was sensitive to words, I carefully perused the—"

"Get to the point!" shouted the blacksmith.

"Uhh, well—anyway, I think we can find _him_ and ask for his help—"

"Who?" asked the Sages.

"Herobrine."

Silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"DEEEEEMOOON! YOU DEMON!" All of a sudden, the priest burst out cursing at me, frightening everyone. "DEMON! DEMON! DEMON!"

"Wh—what?" I said, perplexed and scared.

"You're a demon! You're a demon!"

"Shut up! You're a Sage. Don't be that rude," said the blacksmith.

"Yes, please, please calm yourself down," implored the leader.

"Herobrine and those who worship _him_ are demons!" said the priest, standing up and looking angrily at me. "Herobrine is against Notch, our God, our Creator. Notch created this beautiful world, but Herobrine intends to destroy it. Are you mad? How can you seek help from _him_!"

"I—I think—"

"Who is the author of that pamphlet?" inquire the priest.

"Uhh, _the Witch of the Great Swampland_."

"See! Witch! Witch! Those goddamned witches! They should be hunted down and executed! They inflict callous harm on innocent people with deadly potions; they summoned the tyrant to our village with evil magic; they write books that are immoral are blasphemous. Sooo, NEVER believe a single word in that pamphlet!"

"But I can't understand one thing," I tried to argue with him, though he seemed to be on the verge of going insane. "My father was also a Sage. 'Righteous,' 'honest,' and 'pure' are words that best describe him. If the book is that evil as you said, then I can't understand why father wanted to preserve it."

But the priest watched me with a quizzical look, and then suddenly a creepy smile came to his face.

"Ahh, now I understand. Your father—" said the priest.

"What?" I said.

"Worshipped Herobrine in secret! He hid it from us! We were all cheated. He's not a Sage; he's a demon!"

At these words, I flew into a fury. Yet, I knew I had to control myself. The best thing I could do was to continue to argue with him, even though he might not listen.

"If a man who dedicates life to the welfare of our village is a demon, then what the player should be called? When he first came to this village, he took us to be hostile and killed half of our people. The player is our common, not my father!"

"Besides," I added, "can you think of any better ways to help us get rid of the player?"

"Of course," he said, confidently. "Let's pray and wait for the results. Someday the player will find the spiritual part inside him, worship Notch with us, and learn to respect our people, as long as we keep on praying."

"No, prayer won't save us, and that will never happen! So—"

"WHEN WILL YOU STOP TAKLING THESE NONSENSE!" yelled the blacksmith, banging his fist on the table and getting to his feet. "There's no such thing as Herobrine._ The legend of Herobrine_ is just a stupid story made up by somebody to scare those newbie players! "

"No," argued the priest. "Herobrine is—"

"I don't care whether he exists or not!" interrupted the smith. "I don't want to waste my time on this stupid conference anymore. My client is waiting for my iron ingots. Sorry, I have to leave now. "

The blacksmith approached the door and then disappeared.

"Wait, wait a minute! Herobrine is—" said the priest, who was about to follow him. But before he left, he flung the Holy Book down onto the table and said:

"You should read books like this, Tommy. Now I give it to you, and if you read it and prayer every day and refrain from thinking about Herobrine the devil, you're your sins will be forgiven and you'll be absolved. Remember our God is kind and generous!"

The priest finished his words and left. The remaining people in this room remained embarrassed and speechless for one or two minutes.

"Uhh," I said to the leader, trying to break the silence. "I know it was me who messed the thing up. I'm sorry; I didn't expect this."

"Never mind, Tommy. You did nothing wrong," said the leader, with a faint smile. "After all, it's all our fault. We are the Sages but we fail to come up with any good ideas."

"And I fail too. They don't like my idea."

"But I like it! Actually, I'm seriously considering your idea. And so now I have two things that I would like to let you know."

"Really?" I exclaimed.

"Yes. First, I know something about _the Witch of the Great Swampland_ you just mentioned, since I met her in person before."

"What! Really?"

"Yes, it's true. And about Herobrine, Herobrine is—"

"is?"

"He's real."


End file.
